


Our Lives, Together

by unremarkablegirl



Series: Your Future, Mine [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, Light Angst, Past Character Death, Post-Season/Series 07, Short & Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:41:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27092974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unremarkablegirl/pseuds/unremarkablegirl
Summary: They have been back on Earth for a week. It’s been a week since she died and came back. It’s been a week since John decided that she was what he was willing to forfeit life for. It’s been a stressful week.Prompt: Emori's reaction to John's new found need to be constantly near her.
Relationships: Emori/John Murphy (The 100)
Series: Your Future, Mine [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1977457
Kudos: 16





	Our Lives, Together

They have been back on Earth for a week. It’s been a week since she died and came back. It’s been a week since John decided that she was what he was willing to forfeit life for. It’s been a stressful week. 

John has neither strayed from her mind nor her side. She wants so badly to speak to him about the crux of the matter but she knows he will hide. They have lived many lives together: bandits, bait, astronauts, royalty. It would be shameful on her part to not know how his mind works—even before actually being in his mind.

Throughout all their lives, there was a common theme, a shackle chained to John’s ankle that she could never seem to pick. This very concept that all John has and all that John is is forfeit to others. That he has to give and give and give. That he has to prove his worth time and time again. That he must always be in service to others. That he is never the end goal, never the lynchpin, never all that important, but must always be willing to give up something important. 

He’s given up his body and his pride, his time and his strength, his voice and his very bones. He has constantly been made to put his life on the line. The lamb must always be ready at the slaughter, be it a noose or a pyre. 

He still ties his worth to what he can give. 

When she had died, he had tied his worth to the love he could give her. She swallows, that is too much power to give one person. It’s a sickening feeling for she never wanted to take from him. She had been taught that she had to take what she wanted from life, that no one would care for her. But John had changed that, he had first offered an alliance and then friendship. She had learned and she had reciprocated, offering him a relationship and her broken love. 

She smiles, remembering their beginnings and how a peaceful life had never seemed to be an option. She raises her hand, tracing over John’s features, lax in sleep. It is still early, dawn just barely peaking through the flap of their tent. 

She traces the arch of his brow, down to his cheekbones, trailing her fingers over that prominent nose. She skips over his eyes, hand instead falling to his lips, parted in his sleep, down to his jaw, and then tracing his neck and trailing his prominent collarbone until she settles her hand against his chest where she can feel the steady thump of his heart.  
Throughout all this, her mind is working, dissecting the past week and John’s new found touchiness. It is not something she can complain about, it grounds her the same way it seems to ground him. A constant reminder that he is there and alive, that his life had not become forfeit, that she had not led to his demise. 

The constant reaffirming touches warmed her wherever he laid his palm and traced his fingers. They seemed to light up something within her that not even being a literal ball of light did. These touches awakened an ache behind her ribs, an offbeat to her pulsing heart. 

He spent the week zipping and unzipping her jacket, fussing with her sweater, tucking her hair behind her jaw and letting his hand linger at her jaw. He has stayed in her orbit, brushing their shoulders together and reminding himself that she’s alive. She knows that he sees the understanding in her eyes, but she does not know if he knows how important these touches are to her, as well.

She wants to explain. She knows she should sit him down and talk. She lets her eyes refocus, it is much lighter than when she had last focused on John’s face. His face is glowing in the early morning light. She feels her heart swell with love. 

She glances out the flap, she does not yet see anyone rummaging around the centre. Today, by silent unanimous decision, is a day for relaxation. She glances back at John, blissful in sleep and it sinks in that this is the peaceful life they never thought they could have. John deserves peace, especially from his own demons and his own self sacrificing ways.  
She swallows and casts her mind around for a second. Remembers the log she had seen Octavia and Hope sat against when she had gone looking for them that very first day. She remembers pausing and watching them skip stones before turning back around to give them their peace. She shifts, decides that is where she will take John to let him rage and cry and confront his own importance. 

Resolute in her decision, she swallows again before leaning up to kiss John’s forehead, a gentle wakeup call for the day to come.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, come prompt me on [tumblr](https://unremarkablegirl.tumblr.com) (also a kudos and comment would mean a lot sorry lol)


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